


sugar pearls

by diluc



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Baking, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Sleepovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24705613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diluc/pseuds/diluc
Summary: Sumire tastes of sugar pearls and yearning.
Relationships: Sakura Futaba/Yoshizawa Kasumi, Sakura Futaba/Yoshizawa Sumire
Comments: 3
Kudos: 58





	sugar pearls

**Author's Note:**

> twitter said its date/fluff sumitaba time so ofc i entertain the thoughts uwu owo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Have you really never baked?” Sumire’s eyes gazed down at Futaba, lashes fluttering. She looked so beautiful, the shorter girl thought, being her true self. It’s crazy how much has changed in both of their lives over the course of the past year, but she doesn’t regret a single thing that has happened. From (accidentally) acquiring a brother to re-learning how to socialize, Futaba believes all of this is for the best. Especially if that means Sumire can stay by her side, no matter how selfish the request is, as Sumire, no masks or pretenses.

Futaba simply shrugs and shoves more cookies down her throat. “I mean, Sojiro’s got a café and not a bakery,” she manages to speak through chewing the food, not even bothering with manners. She hopes the two of them are close enough now to disregard such little social things, and maybe they should even openly embrace each other’s idiosyncrasies… (Oh, doesn’t that sound a little lovey-dovey? Futaba blushes at the thought alone.) “and I mostly live off of cup ramen and curry, he-he.”  
Sumire’s hair glides over the lacy, frilly shoulder straps of her pajamas; the digital clock on her nightstand says it’s 2:04 AM, but she fathoms none of them care at this point – they talk for hours on end, and Futaba is really glad to have met the other girl. She fixes her glasses and ends up staring onto the ceiling; when her gaze does meet the ginger girl’s, her cheeks end up immediately flushed and dusted by a rosy pink. Futaba thinks it’s cute, the way she blushes at her every other movement, and how she invited her over exactly when Sumire’s parents won’t be home.

“Well… would you like to try?” the red-haired girl smiles sweetly. “Baking, I mean! I know it’s kinda late, but… I’m not really sleepy. If you are, though-“  
“It’s okay,” Futaba gingerly giggles before lifting her legs up to stand up and get off of the fluffy bed. “you’re rather good at that, yeah?”  
Yoshizawa looks away, standing up. “That’s what sis said, yes…”

Sensing a grim atmosphere, Futaba finds herself at a loss: there is no way she can probably comfort the other girl now. She wishes to, but… the words and the feelings can’t find her inside her conscience, inside her little bubble, even now. A wall separated her emotions and her reactions like a thick vine had divided orchards in bloom; all she could do was give the other girl a reassuring grin, heat rising in her chest. “Let’s get on to it, then! Right, Sumire-sensei?!”

“S-sensei…?” she trails off, and when realization dawns on her, Sumire bursts into laughter. “Ah, haha! Okay, then, I’ll see what we have in the cupboard!”

So they rush downstairs, socked feet thumping against the hardwood floor; the two girls erupt in small chuckles and snickers all along, talking and mumbling something barely audible. Futaba mentally thanks whatever deity exists, because not only was she blessed with the best friend group and brother, but the best crush, too.

“Hmm… I can see flour and sugar, obviously… Salt, yeast, baking powder, uh-huh… Futaba-chan, can you please check the fridge for me?”  
“Aye-aye! There’s eggs, uh- mayonnaise and ketchup-“  
“Um, you know that’s not for baking, right?”

“R-right, haha! Just kidding…” _get it together, Sakura Futaba, for Hell’s sake now!-_  
“It’s okay, you can take your time.” Sumire beams at her, several sacks and boxes in her hands. Futaba’s heart throbs in her ribcage, and when she feels her mouth run dry, she shakes it off and keeps looking inside the refrigerator, as though seeking salvation inside its freezing depths. This girl is too cute, Futaba can’t bear it…  
“Um… I can’t believe it’s butter!” she thus takes a pack of butter from the fridge and tosses it onto the table as Sumire giggles, “then here we have… um, some whipped cream! Eggs, and milk, and… why do you keep lemons inside the fridge, Sumire?!&rdquo  
Instead of entertaining her friend with an answer, the girl gets some vanilla extract from the cupboard and smiles. “Lemon cupcakes it is, then!”

“I’ll heat the oven, okay? Let’s see… 170 degrees, alright! Futaba-chan, can you please get the cupcake liners?”

“Huh? Is this gonna be like in Cooking Mama?”

“I guess,” Sumire snickers a little, “can you also get the whisk out, please?”

* * *

An hour later, Futaba wipes the sweat off of her bangs. Sumire, meanwhile, puts a mix of buttercream and whipped cream on top of each cupcake lovingly, topping some of them with little sugar pearls they had found. The two of them had decided to make a batch of about thirty mini-pastries, fifteen to each. It just so happened that the ginger girl’s half looked, ergh… _questionably tasty_ at best.  
“I really like the cupcakes you made, Futaba.” Sumire’s voice is smooth and _oh God did she just not use honorifics? Oh my God Futaba you useless literal lesbian don’t overthink this!_ The girl then proceeds to take a big bite off of the rounder of Sakura’s botched treats, and she grins doing so. “They’re so sweet, just like you.”  
Futaba barely thinks before exploding into a blushing mess. “I-I, _IlikeyouawholelotSumire!!”_

“Huh?” the taller girl asks, propping her chin against her free hand. There’s little leftovers of the food on her cheek and sugar pearls melt inside her mouth, and there’s mischief and affection intermingling inside, flashing a spark in her eyes. “Sorry, Futaba… I didn’t hear you, what did you say?”  
This is it. Sakura Futaba is deceased. Since her grave had already been dug, there’s no point in hiding, right? Chances are, Sumire actually heard her… Although anxiety constricted her lungs, she decided to be brave – for everyone, and for her personal life…!

“I like you, Sumire.”

The other flushes immensely, face again a rose-colored mess. She drops the cupcake on the table, softly, before exhaling loudly. “I’m glad you finally told me.”  
And with that, she is pulled into a fervent kiss; an embrace by all-familiar hands, and with all-familiar burgundy hair around. 

Sumire tastes of sugar pearls and yearning.

**Author's Note:**

> IIIIIIMMMMMMM GGGGGGGGAAAAYYYYYYYY
> 
> since my twt main is suspended, hmu on this twt acc:  
> @reservedlymuge


End file.
